The Great Nap Experiment

Science is a tricky business.  Planning an experiment should take considered effort and thought.  But sometimes, the light just comes on, and you’re in it before you’ve really thought it through. 

Recently I’d noticed how babies and youngsters of all species can, at the drop of a hat, do a group sleep.  Puppies, apes, kittens, birds, piglets, and cubs will at some unknown cue stop their rough-housing and in minutes be fast asleep in a pile.  Kindergarteners and day care kids will, when the sleeping mats roll out at nap time, knock off together. My hypothesis is that a chemical signal, a pheromone of sorts, is responsible for the shut down.

To test my hypothesis I consider several options.  One is to put both of my little charges in the same crib at opposite ends and then do the usual lullaby/story song and dance while seated in a chair outside the bars.  (The metaphor of zoo or prison is, I know, horrifying). Even I see the folly in this plan and instead opt to mimic the pile-of-puppies imagery and put them both to sleep on my lap.  I know, I know.  A thoroughly modern Baba would have set up two play pens in different rooms, handed out the bottles and blankies, read a couple of stories, passed the verdict of Nap Time, closed the doors and retreated to her computer to check her Facebook page.

But what would we learn from this?

I announce to my daughter in law (DIL) whose house the Little One Number Two and I are visiting, that I intend to put both babies to sleep at the same time on the same lap.  Barely able to contain her mirth she maintains a straight face while preparing two bottles and changing both babies in preparation for what is clearly a doomed venture. I march them upstairs to the tune of Hey Tam Na Horeh, a Ukrainian military song.

Delighted with this sudden madness they join me in climbing into the big comfy leather rocker where I distribute bottles, set up elbow cushions, and prepare to read a story.  Except that my choice in literature is not unanimous and the book is flung far across the room.  A second candidate finds more favour but the pace at which I turn pages is unacceptable and loudly denounced.  I abandon story time. 

At which point the younger cousin realizes that her tiny petite body is being squished like a bug by the burliness that is her cousin.  (My inside voice laughs hysterically to think that my lap is actually not big enough.  I make a mental note to bring this to my husband’s attention). We adjust the seating arrangement and I begin the fascinating story in which all their family, toys, food, and favourite activities are catalogued and discussed. The elder wants to hear nothing except stories about Buster the dog.  The younger, nose still out of joint from her demotion to second tenant of Baba’s lap, just wants to go to sleep.  However, she stirs to action as the Poking Wars begin accompanied by insane laughter. Not mine.

Persistence is key in any endeavor and mine is eventually rewarded as the lullabies and/or pheromones have their effect. Eyes flutter….and close.  Yesssss!

Then CRASH!  I know that my daughter in law who is pregnant is working in one of the next rooms. I shout her name.  No answer except sudden cries from the babies as they hear the alarm in my voice.  I shout again.  Nothing.  I deposit the hollering babies abruptly and unceremoniously on the floor and run, finding my DIL in the bathroom dealing with a shelf that fell off the wall.  The children are beside themselves with fear and confusion, both reaching for her after their betrayal at the hands of their formerly loving Baba.  I really can’t blame them. 

My DIL graciously suggests that my intentions were good, but perhaps ill-conceived.  This is probably true.  Still, despite complications the experiment was, all things considered, a good start. Like any good scientist I look forward to verifying or refuting my results.  

If they let me….